Chapter 177
Chapter 177:
She deleted the message and blocked the number again.
“What was that?” Azalea asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. She missed very little.
“Spam,” Eliza said. She forced a smile. “Just spam p>
Azalea looked at her for a long moment, chewing her lip.
She didn’t believe her.
The wind on the rooftop terrace of the S&D Group Private Club was gentle, carrying the mingled scents of charcoal and expensive cologne. Below them, Manhattan glittered like a spilled jewelry box — indifferent and beautiful.
It was a private gathering for the inner circle. Just them.
𝗦𝘩a𝗋е yo𝘶𝗿 𝗳𝖺𝘃𝗼𝗋𝘪tеѕ 𝗳𝗿𝘰𝘮
Eliza wore a high-necked navy dress. Elegant, conservative, and crucially, it concealed every single mark Dallas had left on her skin.
Dallas stood at the massive stainless-steel grill, his suit jacket discarded and his sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked domestic yet undeniably powerful, flipping steaks with the same precision he brought to signing billion-dollar contracts. He caught Eliza’s eye across the terrace and winked — a small, intimate gesture that made her stomach turn over — then went back to the fire.
Eliza sat at a low table with Azalea and Zane Sterling. Zane was cutting into his steak with surgical focus.
“Great meat,” he commented, loading a piece onto his fork. “Boss is in a good mood p>
“He should be,” Azalea said, pulling her pink lemonade through a straw. “He destroyed his enemy today p>
Eliza’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Enemy p>
Zane let out a low, dry chuckle. “Anson Hyde. Or should I say, the former heir of Hyde Corp p>
“What did Dallas do?” Eliza set her fork down. It clattered against the ceramic plate.
“Pulled the credit lines,” Zane said, ticking off fingers. “Called in the outstanding loans from the auxiliary banks. Triggered a liquidity crisis. Hyde stocks dropped twelve percent by the closing bell p>
“It was a bloodbath,” Azalea added cheerfully, in precisely the tone one might use to describe a sale at Sephora. “Anson lost his seat on the board. The shareholders voted him out at four o’clock p>
Eliza looked over at Dallas. He was laughing at something the chef had said, his head tilted back slightly. He looked relaxed. At ease.
And yet he had just dismantled a generational legacy in the span of eight hours. He had reached out with an invisible hand and crushed the Hyde family’s financial spine before dinner.
“Why?” Eliza whispered.
Zane set down his utensils and looked at her directly, his expression shifting to something serious. “Because Anson touched you. In the lobby p>
He took a measured sip of wine. “The Boss doesn’t do warnings, Eliza. He doesn’t do slaps on the wrist. He does evictions p>
Dallas crossed the terrace toward them, carrying a plate.
“For my wife,” he said, setting it down in front of her. “Filet. Medium rare. No mango salsa p>
He had remembered. He had remembered the allergy that had nearly killed her. He remembered everything.
“Did you ruin Anson?” Eliza asked quietly.